Bobby Bowden

Its cold outside, and my butt is freezing as I sit on the chilly metal bleachers next to my dad. were waiting for coach Bobby Bowden to lead the team onto the field in there nike pro combat, black uniforms that they only wear once a year. The lush green field is in perfect condition. Its one of the biggest games of the season and one of the lowest temperatures of the year outside. finally the music starts and bobby leads out the team. they stop at there sideline, and I can see Bobby perfectly from my seat about twenty rows up the stadium. He's standing there completely tranquil looking almost like he's under a spell. He's wearing his typical game day outfit consisting of his nike glasses, garnet FSU jacket, and classy kaki pants. His face shows the wear of over forty years of coaching, some of those years good, some bad. The grass beneath his feet almost seems to glisten around him as if he's standing on a cloud or a shimmering lake. He resembles a god walking amongst mere mortals. his focus seems relentless as he paces up and down the sideline waiting for the game to start. once the game starts its almost like a switch is just turned on. the smooth calmness that was once there is now swallowed up by an energetic tornado of southern slang curse words like "dad gummit." Once the game ends, its like another complete transformation. the switch is turned off and Bobby begins to cool down as the beads of sweat finally begin to seize from falling from his forehead.